Twelve scorpion tails sprouted from his spine.
Each one was as long as an arm, covered in dark red carapace and tipped with a curved venomous stinger. They extended from his back and swayed behind him like some bizarre pair of wings.
Transparent fluid dripped from the stingers. The moment it hit the ground, it corroded small pits into the surface.
Tiny keratinous protrusions covered his face, from his forehead to his chin.
Those protrusions were hard as stone to the touch. His lips split apart, revealing dark red gums and sharp, triangular teeth like a lizard's.
"Karim, Beast Taming Type, codename 'Sand Scorpion.'"
Hans was the ninth.
When he rose from the bed, the first thing everyone noticed was his eyes.
They had turned grayish green, like cat's eyes, but countless tiny numbers flickered deep within his pupils. It was not a metaphor—there were actual numbers.
The numbers streamed across his eyeballs like a waterfall, too quickly to make out, every one of them flickering and changing.
His skin had turned light gray, like concrete.
Its surface was covered in dense geometric patterns—circles, squares, triangles—layer upon layer, packed tightly together. Those patterns were moving as well, constantly rotating, rearranging, then rotating again.
His fingers had grown longer, each one twice the length of a normal person's, the joints protruding like spider legs.
Those fingers kept moving, as if calculating something, as if playing some invisible instrument.
Seven slender metal antennae had grown from his forehead all the way to the back of his head. They trembled slightly like antennas, gathering every scrap of information around them.
Tiny points of light at their tips flashed without pause.
His mouth hung slightly open, revealing that his tongue had split like a snake's. Its tip constantly trembled, making a faint hissing sound.